Shatter
by ExtremeRainbowRaiderPrincess
Summary: After discovering her neighbor's been kidnapped, Lara stumbles across a conspiracy full of shapeshifters, forgotten history, and a family of former hunters. At the center of it all are twin siblings who hold the keys to a century-old mystery.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: I own the OC's; the rest belong to their respected owners._**

**_A/N: Here's the explanation for Trish in my other Tomb Raider fic. And yes, it's the first in my series. Also- I am aware of Kurtis' biography... I just chose not to go with it. I'm going with the bio I made for him years ago, when I was still in the starting stages of writing fan fiction. This was pretty tough for me to write since I now know what was supposed to be... Try detaching yourself from what you already know, then you'll understand, but I really wanted to keep my old bio for him._**

**Prologue**

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* * *

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**_June 7th... 14 Years Ago... _****_Texarkana_****_, _****_Texas_****_, The Saes Residence._**

"NATASHA!" Benjamin Saes roared from the front door of the house as their children watched in fear from the living room, huddled together in a scared group.

Natasha Saes stormed down the stairs and over to her husband. "What?" She snapped, in her arms their youngest daughter, Rebecca.

"I told you, get the kids packed up and let's go!" He shouted, pointing at the trembling children in the living room. The children cringed back as Benjamin winced, lowering his arm. It shouldn't have to be like this. He was just trying to protect them.

Benjamin was a hunter of all things supernatural.

"No." Natasha said, setting her jaw.

Benjamin recoiled like he had been slapped. "What? You don't believe me when I say we're in danger? You turning your back on me? Huh?"

"We're not Carnies, Ben!" She said, raising her voice just enough to get her point across while Rebecca slept on. Lucky baby... "You're the only hunter in this family- That is your life, this is ours. We like it here, and we're staying."

"I've moved all my life and I've turned out just fine!" Ben snapped at her.

"Oh, sure." Natasha said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Jumping at shadows, sleeping in shifts, trusting no one- That's normal."

"I don't see what you're problem is with this life. Is it too unglamorous for you?" Ben asked, exasperated.

"No!" Natasha hissed, glaring at him. "Dominic, Nikolas, take your siblings next-door. Your father and I need to talk." She said, not breaking eye-contact with her husband.

The two oldest boys, twins, looked at each other before leaving the safety of the living room. Dominic grabbed Rebecca from his mother as Nikolas held Charity's hand, helping the whimpering toddler walk to the door.

"Dada..." She said, reaching out for her father, her lower lip trembling as her big blue eyes filled with tears.

Benjamin ignored his daughter as Nikolas picked her up, following his older twin brother out the door.

Melanie, Patricia, and her twin brother Cole followed them, the twin five year olds and the seven-and-a-half year old trying not to cry as they followed their brother's down the driveway and down the street.

Behind them, they heard their parents yelling.

Dominic stopped the line of children and turned around, looking at his siblings. "I'll never leave you guys." He announced, the ten year old standing tall and tough as Rebecca slept in his arms.

Cole wrapped his arms around Patricia's neck and hugged her close. "Me neither." He said as he shut his eyes, trying not to cry.

Patricia held her brother and nodded. "Me too." She whispered.

"And we're all going to get out of this life. No more hunting in this family." Dominic said, stomping his foot. Rebecca's eyes flew open, but she relaxed as she realized it was... Something. She stuck her thumb in her mouth as she fell back asleep, Dominic looking over his siblings. "From now on we're our own family- No Dad, no hunting. Right?"

"Dada..." Charity said, clinging to Nikolas.

Melanie nodded from the back of the line, the oldest girl in the family. "Uh-huh. We're done."

Dominic nodded and turned, leading them down the neighbor's driveway.

Patricia and Cole looped arms, trying hard not to cry, as they followed. Their little world was falling apart...

If only the promises they had made could be kept.

* * *

**_Dallas_****_... _****_Texas_****_..._**

Meanwhile, somewhere in Dallas, two men in black suits with sunglasses and briefcases left a building. In one briefcase, documents. In the other, a book.

A man in an orange t-shirt followed them, blending in with the people around him.

The two men entered a building, one of them glancing his way. He ducked his head and kept walking until he reached the end of the block, then he went back.

The man glanced at the building's sign. _Speedy The Woodchuck's Parcel Service_ stared back at him in orange lettering that matched his shirt.

He swore before running into the building and up to the front desk. "Two men just walked in here with briefcases. I need to see the briefcases- Now!"

The blonde behind her counter snapped her gum, looking at him in boredom. "No can do sir," he winced at her shrill voice, "unless you are a member of law enforcement-"

He jerked a badge out and slammed it onto the counter.

Raising an eyebrow she turned the badge around with one long, skinny finger before looking up at him. "You're a cop, huh? This way." She turned and led him to the back as he stuffed the badge into his pocket.

She looked over a shelf before turning towards a short man with a greasy ponytail. "Hey, Donny, where's those two briefcases we just got?"

He frowned before pointing towards the loading dock. "They were just shipped out- Urgent mail."

She turned to apologize to the man in the orange only to find him gone.

The man ran up the street, chasing the mail truck with gusto, as the mailman eyed his slowly gaining figure in the rearview mirror. "Big Bubba to Rug Man, Big Bubba to Rug Man, I have a tail." He said, speaking into a walkie-talkie, as he drove.

"Rug Man to Big Bubba: What's the vehicles description?" Rug Man asked.

"Not a car Rug Man, a dude. He's chasing me." He stopped at a red light. "Oh shoot. I'm at a red. He's gaining! What do I do?"

Suddenly a large black van with _Vinnie's Rug's_ in yellow letters on the side sped around the corner. "Get out of here! I'll take care of him!" The driver of the van parked across both lanes of traffic, blocking the man as the light turned green and the mail truck roared out of there as fast as it could.

"Whooh. Thank you Rug Man, Big Bubba out." Big Bubba put his walkie-talkie back. Nothing would stop him from delivering the mail. And he was quite happy about that.

The man in orange, however, ran around the van, which drove away quickly, and began cursing everything he could think of when he saw that the truck was gone.

Noting a mother holding her baby and glaring at him, he marched down the street to the local park, reaching a pay-phone. He dropped some money in, then made a call. "Sir? I lost the package." He winced at the response. "Yes Sir. Yes Sir. I'm sorry. Goodbye, Sir." He hung up and sighed. "Saes better not get his hands on it." He said, running a hand through his hair nervously.

* * *

**_Idaho_****_..._**

Kurtis Trent, young man that he was, cursed his rotten luck before shoving some candy into his mouth. The sweet candy kept him quiet as he reread his father's orders. Somewhere behind him, his older brother Damien and his younger brother Mark roughhoused, somehow comforting Kurtis.

_Boys,_ it read,_ I am expecting a package in the next day or so. Tell Mrs. Kanada,_ the woman next-door who knew most of their secrets- And the boys knew that she had plenty of her own-, _to sign for it. Don't open it. I also want you all to do six hours of training each day, along with your studies, and keep the house clean. If I discover you have not followed my orders I am revoking your TV rights for a month._

Six hours? He had to be joking! They already spent seven hours on their studies, and Kurtis slept for about six hours (he needed little sleep), it took usually two hours to finish any report his father wanted, so adding these extra six hours in meant… He had three hours left to do whatever he wanted? This had to be a bad joke. Had to.

"Why does he have to be so obsessed with us being perfect?" Kurtis groaned around the candy in his mouth. He swallowed. "Someday I'm leaving and never coming back." He grumbled.

Damien appeared behind him and snatched the letter out of his younger brother's hands. "Let's see... Eh, dear old dad is starting to fall off his rocker," Damien said, crumpling the letter in his hand before tossing it over his shoulder. Without having to look, it landed in the garbage can on the other side of the room.

Let's not forget: They were, after all, not normal.

Kurtis stared at his older brother in horror. At 13 years old, he was way old enough to be making his own decisions, and his 17-and-a-half year old brother didn't have to boss him around, yet Damien stepped in a lot when it came to their freedom. Living with two hunting-obsessed parents really damaged your personality over time.

That didn't mean he wasn't afraid of his parents, specifically his father's, wrath though.

"Damien, I kinda want to keep my TV rights." Kurtis said, his blue eyes wide.

"Me too." 9-year old Mark said as their beagle, Hawthorne, padded into the room. "And so does Thorne!" Mark added, pointing at the dog.

"Rurr?" The dog whined, looking up at Mark in confusion and then lowering his head like he was in trouble.

"N- No!" Mark groaned, face-palming.

The dog perked up and wagged its tail, happy again.

"Pssh- Like the old man will do anything? As long as we make it look like we did everything he said, we're good to go." Damien explained to his younger brothers. "You see? Piece-of-cake." He said, walking over to the couch and throwing himself over the back of it. Landing, he grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just do the work then?" Mark asked the obvious question.

There was a pause. "Eh. No." Damien said with a shrug.

Kurtis shook his head.

Soft knocking sounded at the door as a woman croaked- I mean- Spoke up. "Oh boys! It's me, Mrs. Kanada. Your father's shoes arrived and I don't want them sitting at my house." She sounded like a female frog talking.

"Yeah yeah, keep your hat on, you old bat." Kurtis grumbled, heading to answer the door of the large ranch-style house.

Damien raised his eyebrow. Shoes? What shoes?

Kurtis opened the door and the towering Asian woman handed him the package. "Keep this door locked," she mumbled, her voice as smooth as silk. "Great seeing you boys!" She said, louder, in her fake frog-voice again. "When your parents come home for dinner, tell them I said "hi"." She said with false cheerfulness.

Kurtis nodded and she left as he locked the door.

Damien was across the room in seconds, taking the package from his younger brother.

That's what happens when you're in a family full of super-humans.

"Shoes huh? Let's see what Dad really has." Damien said, ripping the tape off and opening the box as Kurtis cringed and Mark reached for it.

"No, Damien! Dad'll be mad!" He said, trying to pry the box away.

"Dude, chill. It's just a book." Damien said, lifting the book up.

"Please, Damien!" Mark begged, grabbing his brother's arm.

"Hey," Damien said, giving him a piercing look. "It's fine. I'll take the blame for all of this."

Mark sighed. He knew his father was going to be angry when he got back.

"If you're that worried, then we'll just put it in another box and make it look like we haven't touched it." Damien said, studying the book's exterior.

"I vote we do that." Kurtis said.

"I second it." Mark added.

"Woof!" Hawthorne tossed in.

"Okay then." Damien said, opening the book. "Whoa..."

The other two crowded around to see what was so cool and stared in awe as well.

"Il Sais del cristallo rotto? What's that?" Mark asked them, staring at the picture.

"Dunno. But it sure is cool." Damien said in classic teenage male fashion.

They didn't know that they would have to wait 14 years to get their answer.

* * *

_Good? Bad? Huh? And? And? Gah! It's pointless- Oh, yeah, heh. I forget that I'm not talking to you. Well you'll just have to keep reading. And hey, if you want, review._

_And I know that some people may not like some aspects of Kurtis here- Like how he has two brothers- But it is fan fiction... Just think of it this way: Instead of one attractive __Trent__, you've got three! ^_^_

_And by the way (too many "ands"- GAH!) Mrs. Kanada's last name is not pronounced __Canada__. It's KAH-na-DAH._

**ExtremeRainbowRaiderPrincess.**


	2. Heart

_Disclaimer: The awesome ERRP owns Trish and the OC's. She does NOT own Dean or Lara, thank God. If she did, she'd have her work cut out for her revamping both of those series on top of this story._

_Author's Note: Yes, I have revamped Shatter, for those of you who have read the story before. It now has 2-times the amount of secrets, 2-times the amount of weapons, and a billion-times more the amount of Dean. Be prepared: He is now a main character in the story._

**_Chapter One: Heart_**

* * *

_**October 22nd... **__**8:09 P.M.**__** ... Fifteen Years Later...**_

A dark ceremony was being held in Ravenna, Italy.

It was a sinister ceremony that spelled only trouble for the world... As usual, in Lara Croft and Dean Winchester's worlds.

The streets of Ravenna had no idea what was happening as happy couples and random drunks stumbled past one strange, intimidating, building.

That was why there were three people that didn't belong there.

The lone male was perched on a windowsill high above the ceremony, his green eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of the other two.

The two women slipped in and out of the ceremony, two phantoms in a room full of the living. Both knew where to step and when. Both knew where the other one was. And both knew full well what they needed to do.

One woman, who was armed to the teeth like she always was, flipped and tumbled her way between shadows, light on her feet with cat-like grace. The other seemingly danced her way through the shadows, heading for the front of the room.

The leader of the procession came to an abrupt halt, one of the women seeking cover behind a statue of the Virgin Mary while the other one scaled a statue in order to hide in the rafters overhead.

The woman in the rafters crept along the beams like a cat, her long braid dropping over her shoulder as she slid to her knees, silently. Lara's full lips spread into a cat-like grin as she spotted the man, Dean, in the window.

The ceremony began with the leader speaking. He kept switching between Greek, Latin, and Italian, as he prayed to some long-forgotten false god for powers that no man would ever hold, his followers as silent as the three heroes.

The second woman rolled her dark gray eyes, her fingers drumming a pattern into the back of the statue that would've driven many people mad. Her lips moved in a quiet prayer of her own to God, asking him for protection as she, once again, participated in an adventure that was far too dangerous for her liking.

Of course, the man who had drummed his own pattern into her heart and the woman who had helped her regain her family's lost history made her feel a little better. She knew they needed her to be there.

She leaned around the statue, away from the ceremony, and looked up at the window Dean waited in.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Just hurry this up. It's so friggin' cold up here I think I just lost feeling in my backsi... No, I did!"

Yeah, he wasn't exactly a shining example of maturity or patience, but those were just two of the reasons she had fallen so badly for him.

Lara looked up from the ceremony as the man finished and returned her gaze to Dean, nodding at him as she ignored his complaints.

He flicked his hand in a silent, two-finger salute, as the leader of the procession spoke up in heavily-accented English.

"Do we have the dagger?" The man asked as the third member shifted, appearing from behind the statue.

In one hand, she clutched a dagger, the light reflecting off of the two tattoos that ran down the inside of her arm.

The tattoos, which said _Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare_ and _Nella fiducia __del__ dio I_, were both inky black laced with neon pink. They blended nicely with the woman's tan skin.

"I do." She said, her Southern accent strongly out of place.

Everyone in there who had not known she was there looked at her in shock, not sure what to do since the ceremony had been, allegedly, kept secret.

Obviously "kept secret" meant nothing in the modern-day world of technology, well-paid spies, and a British woman who enjoyed saving the world from bizarre villains.

"Dean," Lara said, her fingers on the mic at her throat, "time to shine."

The moment she finished speaking, Dean raised a pistol, aiming at the altar that hung over the room against one wall as Lara rose to her feet.

As she dove off the rafters, Dean fired. The altar, which had been key to the ceremonies success, came crashing down as the woman, a Patricia Saes, smiled. "Lo mancate, tesoro?"

Even in all the chaos around them, even as Lara Croft and Dean Winchester were shouting to each other about how to reverse the man's prayer, the man stared at Trish with horror.

"How did you get here?" He asked her.

Her eyes held an amused grin as Lara shouted several lines in Italian, undoing a part of the ceremony, but not all of it, unfortunately.

"That, my darling, is a tale that is too long to tell." She said, flatly.

"I've got it!" Dean shouted before repeating a phrase in some dead language.

Everything grew strangely calm. Suddenly there was no need to hurry, no need to panic. It was just time for some things to be explained. For tales to be told.

For balls of twine to become unraveled.

That was what they had been trying to avoid.

"Nonsense. Every tale can be told, no matter the length." The man said, sitting on the ground.

Trish sighed, rolling her shoulders as she did so. "Fine, but if you fall asleep, I am going to be very, very angry." She said, though in her heart she knew something was wrong.

_I never wanted to tell my story in front of Dean. _She thought, cringing at what she knew would be revealed.

Her heart.

* * *

_Translations are courtesy of Yahoo's! __Babel__ Fish… So I know some of the translation's are a little iffy. Sorry about that. What the phrases that aren't in English mean- if you don't look them up instantly- will be revealed in later chapters. ;)_

_Reviews would be nice, but I won't be upset if you don't review. I thank you for reading my story though. :)_


	3. Fire

_Disclaimer: I own the OC's (Trish, her family, etc…) And nothing else. Not Kurtis. Not Dean. Not Lara or the Cabal. Just the OC's. And the story._

_Author's Note: This is: 1: Super edited. 2: Totally revamped. 3: The (sorta) beginning of a fantastic tale. I hope you enjoy it. ;)_

**_Chapter Two: Fire_**

* * *

_"I guess this story starts in London... Kinda. That's a long story that I won't go into..." _Trish explained, her voice surprisingly calm. It was a stiff calmness, bordering on robotic.

* * *

Before Trish Saes was asking, "Miss me, darling?", to a man leading a ceremony, she was an American college student stranded in a London airport, confused, angry, and depressed.

For what had to be the ninetieth time, Trish walked into the ladies room and looked at herself in the mirror. 19, pretty, pale, and obviously American. No one could find a flaw in the image she projected.

She was the women's version of the American dream.

And at that moment, she only saw her past.

"Ugh, c'mon at Aunt Bea. Ladies can be fashionably late, but not stupidly so. Have a heart." She groaned as she poked at her eyebrows. "I hope I thinned these out enough." She added after a moment.

Leaning back, she sighed and ran a hand over her French braid. She was the only one out of all her brother's and sister's who could stand their great aunt Beatrice Beaumontle's shenanigans. For the summer "Aunt Bea", as she was called when she wasn't around, had offered to pay for any or all of her great nephews and niece's tickets to-and-from England, as long as they stuck around for the summer and helped her pack up her things as she prepared to move to a smaller estate. Her life at her Edinburgh one was "too busy", as she put it.

Thank God Trish had managed to line up a summer internship at a small, privately-owned and operated museum, or else even she wouldn't have gone. She had too much work to do in order to receive her degree on time.

Trish had put a lot of work into leaving her family's rocky past behind, and her double major in criminology and archeology was certainly fueling the fire.

The 19 year old suddenly realized she was crying, and dashed away her tears with angry swipes of her hand.

"Can't escape the emotions, even over here, huh?" She asked her reflection, knowing full well what the response in her heart was.

_No, I can't._

Grumbling about time, Trish fixed her makeup and then left the ladies room again. She returned to the front of the terminal, waiting outside for her aunt.

Soon, she had to pull her umbrella out as it began to rain.

It was official: She hated the trip.

If Aunt Bea didn't show up soon, then even Trish wouldn't be able to hold her tongue.

* * *

"_Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare."_ Kurtis Trent said in perfect Italian, over the phone to one of his closest friends.

"What does that even mean?" Dean Winchester groaned, his head thrown back, as he discussed a case that spanned two countries with Kurtis.

"_Roughly, l__ook not to me for truth, for I am the true joker."_ Kurtis said.

"And this psychic said that some chick would have a tattoo of this?" Dean asked, starting to wonder if Kurtis was just gullible. "Dude, that's like the most vague prediction I have ever heard."

"_Vague or not, it matches the words written on the back of the photo." _Kurtis continued with. _"Dean, please, just contact the guy. We could really use his-"_

"No, no I won't contact this guy. He's nuts!" Dean said, eyeing the photo he had of the twin siblings they were looking for. They were dressed in costumes, his of a soldier, hers of a pirate. "And she's hot, but still nuts!" He added after a moment. _Though I doubt the famed Saes are even half as scary as they were twenty years ago. For Christ's sake- she's going to school for archeology. That's... That's.. Harmless. No one's scary and an archeologist._

Little did Dean know that Lara was one.

Kurtis growled, a sound that Dean was too used to hearing since the two friends frequently fought about work. _"Just call the idiot already. Unless you want to troop around England looking for his nutty sister."_

Kurtis only called her nutty because she had somehow managed to get on supernatural-hunter's radars several times- but not because she was something paranormal or was helping them.

Actually, she had been on the opposite side of the law.

"If it didn't involve flying, I would gladly go looking for her." Dean said.

"_Great. Thanks." _Kurtis said, hanging up.

Dean sat there for a moment longer, stunned that he had been tricked into contacting the other Saes twin and asking for his help.

"What have I done?" Dean wondered as he hung up and dialed the new number. It took nearly 16 rings before the machine kicked in, which was a little creepy in Dean's opinion.

"_You've reached Cole. Can't talk. Busy. Leave message. Bye."_ The man, who had a really deep voice and an even stronger Texas accent, said before the, "BEEP", hit.

"Cole? Cole Saes? We need to talk. My name is Dean Winchester. I have some information that involves your family's back-story. You can reach me at…"

* * *

Cole Saes was drying his shoulder-length hair with a towel just as the machine in his apartment kicked in.

A Winchester was calling him? _Crap._

Cole flopped down onto the couch as he dropped his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do about this? He had to lie low until his sister got back to town to help him clear up some things.

He really had no idea why he was in trouble this time, but he was.

The notes left behind by his lawyer, the lovely Shania Lowgren, made his stomach sink. He hadn't robbed anyone!

So why was he about to plead innocent to the charges?

"Agh, blast it. What am I going to do?" He wondered as he ran his hand through his hair.

_Prove your innocence! That's what! _His conscience barked.

_Without Trish? C'mon, she's going to school for this. She'll understand this better. _He quickly thought.

The idea was tempting though, and he was only in San Diego…

If he hurried, he could make it to Las Vegas by car in a reasonable amount of time.

He looked at the picture of him and his twin on the table next to his couch. He had taken it the last time they had seen each other- six months prior.

He cringed. _How'd we drift so far apart? _He wondered, saddened.

That made up his mind. He couldn't rely on Trish to fix this. She had her own life- she had made that perfectly clear the last time they had been in trouble. And, she was clawing her way to a new life. He didn't want to hurt her chances for that.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up and walked towards his bedroom. _I'll make things right, and then I'll follow in Trish's footsteps. That is the only way I can make this right. _He thought with determination. _Time to break the mold._

* * *

Three hours and an interesting train ride later, Trish was in a cab heading for her aunt's estate.

Her temper had gotten the best of her, and so while in the midst of telling her cabbie just why she was so angry, Trish began to wonder if her aunt hadn't forgotten.

It didn't stop her from being angry though.

After the cabbie left her in front of the mansion, though, Trish's fears really began to take root.

The car was in the driveway. The curtains were all open. The front gate was wide open… Something was definitely wrong there.

"No time like the present, though, to deal with this." Trish said, lugging her suitcases and backpack along with her as she approached the front door after pulling the front gate shut.

No one answered when she slammed the knocker against the door several times, damaging the heavy wood, or when she used the bell, and so Trish was forced to use the spare key hidden under the nearby flower pot in order to get into the house.

"Aunt Beatrice? Mrs. Crunk? Lackey? Anyone?" Trish shouted, entering the eerily quiet mansion.

Not even a ghostly feeling answered her calls.

"Of course. She just happens to forget on the day that I arrive that I am, in fact, arriving. I bet she's at the neighbor's, stuffing her face with cake and complaining about my mother again." Trish ranted as she stomped through the house; her stiletto's clacking noisily across the hardwood floors.

She reached the doors to the kitchen and slipped as she crossed the threshold, releasing a cacophony of expletives as she dropped her bags and twisted her ankle. Seething, she turned around to find out what caused her mini accident.

A line of salt lay in front of the open doors. A familiar line of salt.

"Huh. That's weird." Trish said, cocking her head as she stared at the line.

She couldn't place where she had seen it before, but she knew that she had.

Turning around, her alarm rose as she noticed the lines of salt were all over the place.

"Oh great. Now what?" She grumbled.

* * *

Trish had a good reason to be suspicious. The mansion was so empty it wasn't funny. Deciding not to take any chances, she left the mansion to stand on the front lawn, her bags at her feet like dogs as she called her cousin Cid, her aunt's only child.

"Eh, hello?" Cid greeted her with. "Is that you, Tricia?"

She quirked a slender eyebrow in annoyance. _Same old Cid. _"It's Trish, Cid, and where's your mother, or Mrs. Crunk, or Lackey for that matter?" She asked, keeping one eye on the house while she wrapped her free arm around her midsection. "I'm here and they're not."

"You're where?" Cid asked her.

"Her house. Where else?" Trish asked, waving her free hand in disgust.

"Well…" He huffed in annoyance, and that's when it hit Trish he was probably at work. "Knowing Mother she forgot and took a spa day. Head across the street to the manor there and ask for Lara Croft. Explain whose niece you are and explain your situation. If she isn't there, which is very likely, talk to her butler Winston. If he's not there, which it just as likely, go to another house. Someone has to be home on the block."

Trish cringed. Lady Luck was scowling at her.

Before she had a chance to thank her cousin, he hung up on her, muttering about, "Bloody Americans".

"Ladies and gentlemen, this trip is officially an complete failure." Trish said, hanging up.

As she muttered to herself about how she should've stayed in Texarkana for the summer, Trish grabbed her luggage and went across the street.

As she approached the gates she noticed a little camera watching her from atop the fence and groaned mentally. _Great- this Lara Croft is going to be some crazed old lady with a billion cats, seems to never bathe, and is richer than rich._ She thought to herself as she put down her luggage down again before pressing a small button on the intercom next to the gate.

All she seemed to do today was carry her things around.

_"Croft Manor."_ A polished British male said from the other side. _"May I ask who you are?"_

With a silent, "The boogeyman," on her lips, she replied. "Hi, I'm Patricia Saes. My aunt, Beatrice Beaumontle, lives across the street. I'm sorry to bother you, but my aunt and her housekeeper aren't home right now and my cousin said to come here if I needed some help. Well, I need help." All was silent as she stopped speaking. "Hello?"

Still no response.

_Great, the butler either was a burglar or he just fell asleep._

"I'll just go somewhere else. Sorry to bother you." She said, her cheeks turning a nice shade of pink. _I feel so stupid! _She thought as the gates began creaking open. She looked at the camera, sure her surprise was written all over her face.

_"Miss Croft knows your aunt and would love to meet you. Please, come in."_ He said as she smiled.

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all._ Trish thought. _And maybe this trip isn't a failure after all._

* * *

"Great." Lara sighed. "This is embarrassing. Hopefully Winston hasn't snapped a picture of my predicament."

She swung, upside down, from the rope bridge as the wind picked up. Not where you wanted to be when a storm started.

A low rumble of thunder made her frown even more.

_Perfect, just perfect._

Lara sat up as best she could while hanging there and tried to work her foot free. It seemed her bootlaces had gotten wrapped around a thin, loose piece of wood, and were now contemplating dropping her.

Muttering curses that one cannot type and stay in the T-Rating, she worked her boot free, very slowly, with one hand. The other clutched part of the bridge to prevent her from falling.

_Almost there…_

"Miss Croft?" Winston asked.

"Yes, Winston?" She looked down at her faithful butler, who acted like this was normal. At Croft Manor, it was.

"Mrs. Beaumontle's niece Patricia is here. She says her aunt and Mrs. Crunk aren't home right now and she needs some assistance. Shall I let her in?"

Lara looked at her boot again and worked a little more. _There!_

Lara dropped gracefully to the ground and dusted her hands off. "Yes, please do. If this it the niece she's spoken of, then the poor girl shouldn't be forced to wait around that imposing monstrosity across the street until her aunt returns. Please, make her comfortable and try and contact Mrs. Crunk. I'm sure this is a simple miscommunication."

He nodded. "As you wish, Miss Croft."

He left Lara to her training, which meant restarting the obstacle course, this time moving slower across the rickety rope bridge, before going inside to get cleaned up.

Lara soon entered the main hall dressed in a navy sweater, black slacks, and black combat boots, her hair back in its usual braid.

Mrs. Beaumontle's niece stood, a cup of tea in front of her. Patricia Saes was tall with light brown hair. Her cream dress and black pumps made her look older than the 19 years she was, though the fear-filled gray eyes damaged the effect.

"Lady Croft, it's a pleasure to meet you." Patricia said softly. She had a Southern accent, Texan it sounded like.

Lara and Patricia shook hands before sitting on opposite settees. "Miss Saes, it's a pleasure to meet you as well. Your aunt has spoken highly of you."

The young woman looked a little surprised. "Ah. Thank you. Please, call me Trish. I'm sorry to invade your privacy, but I think I have a problem."

Lara's brows lowered. This she had not expected. Needing a place to wait? Yes, that she had expected. Ah well, surprises were just as common in her life as wondering just what Winston was up to was. "Go on."

"My aunt, her housekeeper, Mrs. Crunk, and my aunt's dog, Lackey, aren't home and I was expected." Trish explained, her hands moving like a child's would when nervous. "Her car is still in the driveway and all the curtains are open, but it's like she's just disappeared. There's also a line of salt in her kitchen and last time I checked, my aunt was on an incredibly low-sodium diet, so why the salt line is there or where it came from is a mystery to me. It's like she should be there but isn't."

"Hmm…" Lara thought for a moment. "Are you sure there wasn't an emergency? Does your aunt have any health problems?"

"Aside from Rheumatoid arthritis and some mild allergies? No. And if something had happened to either of them, my cousin Cid would know. I know for a fact that he has no idea where any of them are. I've called him." Trish explained.

Lara quirked her eyebrow. _All right, so she's probably right to worry._

"Could they have gone to a neighbor's house? I know your aunt is quite the social butterfly." Lara said as she studied Trish. She was truly worried.

Trish shook her head. "That's what I thought, but like I said, it looks like she should be there." After a moment, she added. "My aunt would've called me to let me know I was on my own getting here from the airport, and she never did. I know that something's wrong here, Miss Croft. I can feel it in my blood."

Lara mentally sighed. _Unfortunately, I have the same feeling._

Lara stood. "Then I would like to have a look around your aunt's house, if I may."

Trish stood. "Of course. I just want to find her."

"Then let's go."

* * *

Trish led Lara across the street, leaving her luggage at Croft Manor for the time being.

As the walked up the driveway, Lara spoke again. "Your aunt said that you were majoring in both criminology and archeology. How is that coming along?"

Trish sighed. "Fine enough. I've had several offers from prominent museums for jobs after I graduate, and even a few before I do. That's why I'm here. I need to spend the summer figuring out where I'm going with my life before I actually make any serious decisions. The reason I currently have a double major is because I know jobs in the field of archeology are limited."

Lara nodded, understanding Trish's dilemma. "In my opinion, that is the healthiest thing you can do. Is there anywhere in particular you would like to work?" She asked her.

Trish smiled as she looked up at the mansion. "I would love to work in Scotland for a time. My mother's family is from there and so I would like a chance to not only see the land of my ancestors, but also, God willing, discover some of their lost history."

A devious idea struck Lara's mind just then. "I know some pretty powerful people, Trish. If you would like, I could contact a few of them and get a job set up for you." She said.

Trish looked at Lara in surprise. "Oh, you would? Thank you, that would be a dream come true." The American gushed.

"Then I will, just after we locate your aunt," Lara said, turning back to the mansion.

They stopped halfway between the door and the driveway, on the cobblestone path that cut through the lawn, as they could hear a door slam somewhere in the house.

"Oh, maybe they were napping." Trish said with a frown. "That would… Make some sense…"

Lara looked at Trish as she shook her head. "No, it wouldn't. I'm sorry, Miss Croft, but I think we need to call the police." Trish said, turning to go.

A screeching of tires could be heard as Lara and Trish looked at the driveway, Beatrice Beaumontle's black Mercedes shooting by.

"Shit! What just happened?" Trish asked Lara as the two stared after the quickly escaping car.

Lara looked at the house and a thought struck her, just in time too.

"Run!" Lara shouted, getting away from the house.

Trish kicked off her heels and started after her just as the house exploded, sending Trish flying and Lara to the ground.

Lara watched the flames lick greedily at the walls, the house collapsing on itself, as Trish lay in an unconscious heap in front of Lara.

"Miss Saes?" Lara placed two fingers on Trish's neck, sighing in relief when she found a pulse.

She took her hand off her neck and stood, staring at the manor. She could hear the fire truck's sirens in the distance, probably Winston's doing.

_What is going on here? _Lara thought to herself. _What did I get myself into? _She wondered as the storm that had been lurking above them started, the roar of thunder nearly deafening.

This was going to be one of those adventures.

* * *

Kurtis Trent sighed as he went over what he knew about the Saes once more.

They were once a powerful family of hunters. Now they were ranchers in Texas… Well, at least, the former Mrs. Saes was.

Benjamin Saes, the last hunter in the family, had died years ago, leaving behind an ex-wife and a lot of kids.

The two children of his that they needed to speak to were Cole, an ex-con who was in trouble with the law again, and Trish, a college student who had popped up on his radar in Berat, Albania.

She had done some digging over spring break into her family's history and had managed to set off warning bells.

Warning bells that not only Kurtis and Dean knew of.

The Cabal, for one, were looking into her- something they'd probably abandon once they realized that the Saes were not in the hunting business.

The only reason, though, that Dean and Kurtis were looking into them was because they were the only two children that could be found.

The whole hunting community was on alert: If one of the famous Saes brood was spotted, Dean or Kurtis was to be informed quickly.

They were keeping secrets that needed to be brought to light before something sinister went down.

And Kurtis knew that they had no idea about any of that.

* * *

_And… Cut! ^_^_

_That chapter used to be a lot smaller. Now… Bwahahaha! Everything's going to be bigger, darker, and just plain better._

_Keep reading to find out more… Plus, there's one translation. ;)_


	4. Visions

_Disclaimer: OC's. I own them. I own the story as well. After that, I do not own anything._

_A/N: Hey, plenty of updates going around here. ^_^ Enjoy!_

_**Chapter Three: Visions**_

* * *

_"You guys may think that you got the ball rolling, but I know for a fact that everything would've happened without your help. Hey, things are going to continue happening without your help. That's God's will. You can't change that. But I digress. My aunt's mansion had exploded, and I had been cold-cocked by the force of the blast. Not my shining moment, but hey, you can't win them all..."_

* * *

A crash. The roar of flames. _"Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare."_

Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare. Oh, what confusing yet meaningful words.

Trish was screaming as she ran from the words that, until then, she had never heard.

And she knew why they were there.

Somehow, she just knew that they were a part of her future, she couldn't escape them, and that they were a part of her family's past.

Those sickening thoughts plagued her as she fought to escape the nightmare she was trapped in.

_Never ending darkness. Never ending fear. I want out. Now._

* * *

Lara held Trish's hand as the ambulance rushed them to the hospital.

Aside from a few bruises, Lara had been in perfect shape. Trish, on the other hand, had a concussion- at least. Lara would be surprised if Trish didn't have some bruised ribs too.

Then Trish began thrashing.

She kicked the paramedic that was in the back with them in the shoulder before he realized what was happening as Trish began fighting off some phantom from wherever she was in her mind.

Lara grabbed Trish's arms to keep her from hurting herself as the paramedic sedated her, the man frazzled by her actions.

"Is this normal?" Lara asked him.

"No, not really. We're used to patients like her having seizures, not panic attacks while out cold." The man said. "I'm going to have to write this down," he said.

"Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare." Trish whispered.

"What?" The man looked up at Lara as Lara quirked her eyebrow at him.

"I believe you should look to your patient for the answer, not me." Lara said.

The paramedic looked at Trish and shook his head. "She's a strange one." He muttered.

"You don't even know the half of it, sir." Lara said, looking down at Trish.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ She wondered.

Lara shook her head. She had a feeling she would be asking herself that question for days to come.

Unfortunately, she couldn't be more right.

* * *

Eckhardt stood at the front of the rows of seats on the private jet, looking over his minions carefully.

_Boaz looks incredibly beautiful today, _Eckhardt thought, his harsh glare softening when he looked at her- though she was too busy playing Minesweeper on her laptop to notice. He had to frown at that.

_Muler… _He cringed as the virtually useless man ate another… Sandwich? Eckhardt couldn't be sure what the item was, though he was sure he heard a bicycle bell ring from under the bread.

Muler was the failed result of an experiment from years prior. Eckhardt had tried to get rid of him several times, but every time he shipped him off… He reappeared, much to Eckhardt's chagrin.

_Gunderson… _He shrugged. Nothing important there.

And then there was Karel. Karel was…

_I'm pretty sure he's a professional cake decorator. _He thought. _What? Then why do I have him as a part of my team? _He argued with himself, glaring at Karel.

Karel looked up from the book he was reading, gave Eckhardt a confused look, and then resumed reading.

_Oh, that's right. I like cake. _He decided.

Frowning even deeper, if that was possible, Eckhardt looked down his nose at his minions… And the woman he wished was his girlfriend.

It was hard to believe that Eckhardt could ever love, but he did love her.

"So far we are barely any closer to finding The Sleeper or the Obscura Paintings than we were a year ago. Gunderson," the large man straightened where he stood, "have your teams found anything yet?"

"We have found traces of The Sleeper in Turkey and my teams have begun careful work on excavating the site where The Sleeper is rumored to be located." Gunderson replied, not blinking and staring at the wall past Eckhardt's head.

Eckhardt's scowl grew even worse, if that was possible, before speaking. "'Rumored' or 'known'?" He growled.

"Forgive me Meister Eckhardt- we have definitive evidence that The Sleeper is buried there." Gunderson lied.

Eckhardt, buying the lie, nodded coldly. "Very well. Muler," he turned to the porky man nibbling on pork rinds, who choked down the last of the bit in his mouth, "how close are we to recreating The Sleeper's natural habitat?"

"W- we are ten times closer than we were a month ago. We have finally had the saplings take root and grow in a designated area outside of the Biodome, and the Pod is a few weeks short of being full grown." Muler said, giving Eckhardt a reason to lighten his scowl, but just barely.

Eckhardt raised his chin as the fat man cowered in terror. "Good. Boaz," he turned to the sullen woman, "how is the Proto coming along?"

She looked up from her laptop and sighed. "We have finally isolated the problem gene and we are getting closer to creating the perfect Proto, Sir." She said, tapping her fingers in impatience.

He nodded, his heart skipping a beat when their eyes met, before turning to Karel. "I trust you have located the man I have been looking for?" He asked, his chin raised. _Hmm… I have to wonder why I have a cake decorator on that job…_

"Yes, but he is currently away and will not be available for a few more months." Karel said, looking Eckhardt in the eye.

Eckhardt shrugged and looked them all over once more. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. I expect more progress by the end of next week, if not…" He left the threat open before returning to his seat while everyone but Karel shifted nervously.

* * *

As Lara followed the paramedics into the hospital, Trish on the gurney between them, she felt a little out of place. Trish certainly wasn't family or a friend of hers, yet she was tagging along, making sure that Trish was going to be all right.

Fortunately, the paramedics had quickly determined Trish was just stunned... But she was possibly suffering from some form of post traumatic stress disorder, and would need to be kept under a doctor's supervision before they could determine what caused the episode in the ambulance.

Somehow, Lara suspected that the answer to that question would not be found so easily.

She called Winston after signing Trish in, a little unsure what to do with herself. She'd never had to deal with something like that before; usually, she was the one on the gurney.

Her butler, meanwhile, promised to make some calls and then swing by the hospital with changes of clothes for both women.

"Thank you, Winston. Let's hope the answer to the million-dollar question is found quickly." She said with a sigh before hanging up and running a hand over her hair. She knew she looked like a mess, but that wasn't what was bothering her, fraying her nerves.

As she rubbed the back of her neck, she looked at the doors she had come in as they opened again.

She felt stuck to the floor as she watched through a murky, dream-like haze as a young blond man ran into the hospital, a young woman who looked almost identical to Trish right behind him. Her hair color was completely different- a blue-black color- and she had several tattoos. The pair bickered for several moments before going in separate directions, the man heading straight for Lara- or the front desk behind her- an ID in his hand while the woman went over to a tall, young man, hugging him in the form of a greeting.

Then Lara blinked and the vision was gone.

Looking around rapidly, she was stunned to find that she was the only one who saw the vision.

And even more disturbed when she realized it had been Trish standing there.

* * *

In Ravenna, long before Lara, Dean, and Trish were entranced and their telling story, someone was laying out the border pieces of their puzzle.

Benjamin Black strode down the back alleyway of a bar, his head low and his hands jammed into the pockets of his black trench coat, a black fedora perched on his head. He knew he was fooling no one with the disguise, but then again he knew he didn't need to disguise himself either. It was more of a comfort for his aging soul than anything else.

Turning onto the main sidewalk, he approached the front door of the bar, the glossy glass entrancing. He entered the bar silently, no one acknowledging him save for the bartender, who nodded towards the back.

He barely nodded in response as he went for the back room, quietly walking down the dimly lit hall, before stopping at a large, iron door, an even larger man guarding it.

A usual visitor, the man was not surprised to see him there and asked for no ID. The man nodded and opened the door, using a keycard, and allowing Benjamin through.

The door closed behind him, bathing the spiral staircase in blackness, before he removed his hands from his pockets, in one a lighter.

He flicked the lighter open, giving the stairwell a little light. Grumbling about the lack of light, he started down the stairs quietly, not quite silently though.

He reached the floor and snapped the lighter shut with an audible CLICK before continuing down the hallway lit with torches. The pieces of wood looked like they were right out of some movie set in a fantasy kingdom. Or a tomb.

Continuing to the end of the hall, he ran a hand over the smooth wall, the end of the tunnel, before pressing on a loose stone.

The stone groaned as the wall swung open, revealing a back tunnel, insects and other creepy creatures scurrying away from the sudden intrusion of their home.

"Hmm," Ben grunted, "looks like Theodara hasn't been here in a while." He said, more to himself than the creatures inside the tunnel.

He grabbed one of the torches from the wall to his left before stepping inside of the tunnel, his feet almost in a puddle. The pitted floor had seen better days.

As the door swung shut behind him, he looked out one last time, the light catching on his eyes… Supernatural eyes…

* * *

Lying on a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping nearby, Trish lay unconscious. Doctors monitored her condition warily, suspicious as to what caused the explosion and why world famous archeologist/explorer Lara Croft and her butler Winston were hanging around. Neither of them was related to Miss Saes, so why should they care?

Lara spoke with one of the doctors while Winston stood guard at Trish's room door- whoever was behind the trouble that had landed them there could come back, but with Winston on guard, they wouldn't get far.

Lara went over to Winston with a sigh after finishing her conversation with the doctor. "She says that Miss Saes is fine- save for the usual injuries after something like that. What I really want to know is who would go after Mrs. Beaumontle, and later Trish? Plus, why?" Lara asked, crossing her arms as she looked into Trish's hospital room.

"I don't know, Lady Croft. I don't know." Winston said with a sad shake of his head, both of them turning away from the window.

"And still the greater question is, why did Trish have that little episode in the ambulance?" Lara asked Winston rhetorically, mulling over Trish's words.

Finally, she shook her head. "None of this is making any sense, Winston. This whole... Event is just as confusing as you are when you are half asleep."

Winston shrugged. "Chinese noodle spies are like that." He said cryptically.

Lara eyed him. "Right..." She said.

* * *

The moment Lara and Winston had stopped looking in Trish's direction, the air in Trish's hospital room changed, growing more... Supernatural...

With a spasm, Trish awoke, her eyes wide as she gasped.

Her eyes, too, flickered in the light.

* * *

Dean was craving a cigarette as he pulled the Impala into a parking spot behind the Glitzy Proto Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada.

The bright lights of Vegas were normally entrancing and alluring to him, but at the moment they were draining.

Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned and rested his head against the headrest. With growing suspicions, he had called Cole's lawyer and was not surprised to discover that Cole had gone back to Vegas in order to clear his name.

The fact he wasn't being held in Nevada awaiting trial caught Dean off guard, but it also added to his and Kurtis' suspicions about Cole's family and their ties to… Something more powerful.

Dean had, the moment he learned about Cole's plans, packed up and went after him.

_Too bad Kurtis is out of country._

A bad taste was settling in his mouth. The whole case was leaving him with hives and suspicious that Kurtis was keeping something from him.

Something was wrong with the Saes. And it was more than just, "Oh, they are kleptomaniacs," or, "Yeah, they celebrate Christmas in June".

No, it was something closer to, "They're actually turtle people and live in a glass bubble".

He wouldn't be surprised with something like that. Well, not quite that, but something just as weird.

The Saes weren't exactly the postcard-perfect family they pretended they were. Lying through their teeth was their specialty- something that hadn't changed in the 90 years Saes had been on the hunting map.

Lord knows how long they had been actually hunting. That number was probably lost to time.

Dean shook his head and climbed out of the Impala, groaning as he stretched. Several pops emitted from his joints before he rolled his shoulders and shut his door.

"Okay. I just have to find Cole in a sea of people and pray that that's all I have to do. Nothing scary about that." Dean muttered sarcastically as he reached into the backseat and removed his duffel bag.

_If I had known that this case would involve more people and less supernatural, I would've said "No". _Dean thought wearily. _This case better be snooze-through easy, or I'm gonna be… Annoyed. _

Too bad Dean hadn't wished for that with a genie.

* * *

Kurtis strode through the same London terminal Trish had been standing in hours before, an unlit cigarette clamped firmly between his lips while, slung over his shoulder, his heavy backpack hung.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Kurtis actually had the easy job.

While Dean had to track Cole through the continental United States, Kurtis only had to track Trish down at their great aunt's estate and speak with her.

The only problem in Kurtis's job was the part that involved her talking to him, since he knew she'd be able to identify him as a hunter before he had said one word.

_Ah well. It's a small price to pay when you're saving the world quietly. _Kurtis thought lazily as he walked, calmly, to the entrance of the terminal.

It wasn't until it was too late, though, that he noticed that the air around him was growing thick with supernatural pressure.

Out of nowhere, two figures in black robes appeared, their eyes an odd shade of silver. "Mr. Kurtis Trent," the smaller one, an American woman, said. "We have been anticipating your arrival for some time now."

The man nodded, and Kurtis couldn't help but grimace at their disturbing grins. "Yes, a very long time. A lifetime, in fact."

Kurtis cocked his head, his eyebrows rising.

"Well, Dean, I guess you did get the easier job." He said, looking down at the floor with a coy grin.

The two creatures looked at each other, trying to understand Kurtis's message.

Finally, they looked at him again.

"What?" The man asked him as Kurtis shifted his weight to one foot.

"Nothin'." He said smugly before throwing a punch.

Kurtis really knew how to make his presence known. Good or bad.

* * *

_Believe it or not, this chapter is actually longer than it was the last time I published it. Like, possibly twice as long. I think it actually got better. :)_

_Review if you want to. Flamers will be ignored/will be visited by a proto armed with wrapping paper and bubble gum. Don't ask._


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